


Papillion

by patriciaselina



Category: Free!
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dinner, Established Relationship, I dunno how to tag this actually pls help, Innuendo, M/M, Mako has zero percent cooking skills, POV First Person, POV Multiple, implied MaRinKa if you squint a lot, iwatobiartfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:42:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1600295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciaselina/pseuds/patriciaselina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cooking is a team effort, too. Makoto enlists Rei‘s help to make a fantastic dinner for his boyfriend Rin, who in turn somehow got dragged into watching Nagisa and Haru make sushi. Hijinks occur, hypotheses are tested, and somehow Makoto emerges from the kitchen without losing any fingers.</p><p>Written for iwatobiartfic‘s beta collaboration challenge (“I swim best free for the team”), alongside fuhrerabby and aestheticdecline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Papillion

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna see my (shoddy) Filipino/Tagalog translation of the penultimate Reigisa scene, [please refer to this Tumblr post](http://patriciaselina.tumblr.com/post/84936197976/fic-preview-paruparo-original-title-papillion)!

I hazard a look beside me, and sure enough, there it is: Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s lips are pulled up into a pout that would look childish on any other person‘s face, and looks plainly ridiculous on his own.

“Makoto- _senpai_ ,” I say, carefully, willing my impatience to not rear its head – at least, not today. “You _do_ know the cabbages will soak on their own, right? You don‘t have to glare at them so hard.”

He startles, suddenly, and his out-of-character pout dissipates, morphs back to the same embarrassed expression he‘s been wearing ever since this afternoon began. “I was glaring? Sorry for that, Rei, I didn‘t notice.”

I sigh. For all that he‘s responsible in other matters, Makoto- _senpai_ is a complete and absolute _klutz_ when kitchen matters are concerned – Haruka- _senpai_ hadn‘t been exaggerating at all, definitely – and let‘s just say there‘s a lot of reasons why I assumed all the knifework.

One of them being that I want Makoto- _senpai_ to come out of this with all his ten fingers still attached.

“Makoto- _senpai_ , you can take a break if you want, it‘s ten minutes until you have to turn them over, anyway.” I say, slicing through the tenderloin once more. I really like this ceramic knife – one of the pricier Christmas gifts I got, from my elder brother – for it is lighter than my old one, and slices thinly, cleanly, _beautifully_. The fact that it also comes in purple is a big bonus.

As expected from him, though, Makoto- _senpai_ only shakes his head, looks at what I am doing. “No, Rei. I‘ve caused enough trouble, enlisting your help like this…the least I can do is assist you.”

I understand where he‘s going from, but… “There‘s no need, Makoto- _senpai_. It‘s no trouble for me, and besides, I‘ve always wanted to try out this recipe anyway.” I say, as I line up the last few slices on the chopping board. “It‘s just that between school and swimming, I‘ve never really had the time to.”

“These past few months have been tiring, haven‘t they,” Makoto- _senpai_ concurs, smiling. “But we did get to nationals, so that‘s got to be something.”

“Indeed,” I smile back, especially wary of the knife in close proximity of my fingers as I cut out the last few slices. “How‘s it like, being a graduating student?”

“There‘s a lot of things to do…” Makoto- _senpai_ sighs, his head hanging as he looms over the bowl of soaking cabbage. “This is the first long stretch of free time we‘ve had in a long time, actually. I could not find it in myself to deprive Haru of the swimming he‘s been craving for so long, either – that‘s why he‘s currently in Samezuka, in his exact words ‗ _hounding Rin to let me swim_ ‘.” Then he looks up at my kitchen ceiling, probably thinking something along the lines of the heavens having mercy on him and allowing him to wish that Haruka-senpai would not be doing anything that gets him arrested.

“Hmm…he won‘t be here to see this, in any case? _Rin-san_ , I mean.”

A beautiful, obvious blush makes its way on Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s face. “Oh, right. There _is_ some good to that after all. Nice thinking, Rei.”

“That‘s what I always aim for,” I reply. All the tenderloin slices have been done; all that‘s left is the marinade – oh, right, the marinade, why didn‘t I think of that before? “Right! Makoto- _senpai_ , if you don‘t mind, can you make the marinade for me?”

“Sure!” Makoto- _senpai_ exclaims, eyes brightening at the thought of being able to be of use. It seems to be a common thread among eldest siblings, that expression – even on

the face of Nagisa‘s eldest sister, so long as Nagisa‘s back was turned of course. “How do I start?”

“All the ingredients you‘ll need are in the small green bowls,” I say, as I begin washing the chopping board and the rest of the dirty dishes we‘ve accumulated thus far. One of the best ways to rid one‘s hands of the horrid stickiness that comes with handling meat is by washing the dishes, because one would be able to wash one‘s hands as well – dishwashing liquid works better in these situations than plain hand soap.

“Whoa, everything looks so cleanly done, Rei! Just like a professional.” Makoto- _senpai_ says as he looks over said green bowls, and it takes too much effort for me to not just stand there and _preen_ like one of those kittens he likes so much. He has a way with his compliments that makes children out of full-grown men, though I doubt he knows this. “Did you use different-colored ingredient bowls for each part of the dish?”

“Yes, that‘s part of my routine.” I affirm. I take pride in my _mise-en-place_ – I really like the logic behind it, that of everything having its own specific place. So before I handled the meat I had already chopped up the carrots, the garlic, the ginger…even the cabbage that Makoto- _senpai_ had almost sliced a finger clean off in the process of cutting in bite-size pieces. “We only have two recipes to tackle right now, so I kept it simple – green bowls for the marinade, and the red bowls for _kimchi_.”

Makoto- _senpai_ looks at said bowls, and hums a nameless tune to himself as he goes to work. “What are these mushrooms for?”

“Shiitake mushrooms also cook well in this marinade, I‘ve heard.” I say in reply. “Unless Rin-san doesn‘t like mushrooms?”

“He‘s never told me he didn‘t like them, so I‘m assuming he‘s fine with them.” Makoto- _senpai_ says as he upends the bowl of shiitake in with the rest of the marinade, and mixes. “What is this?”

“Crushed pears, and yes, they go in there too,” I say, rinsing the last of the dirty dishes. The bulk of our washing is composed of the small ingredient bowls, after all, so the ones I‘ve just washed are few in number.

“All done,” Makoto- _senpai_ says, handing out the bowl to place on my side of the kitchen counter, not a moment too soon. It only makes sense that a guy with such defined arm muscles as he has – the same ones Gou still cannot stop waxing poetic about – would be able to mix that fast. “What should I do next?”

“Your timer‘s about to go off,” I say, just as said timer rings its alarm – I‘ve always been proud of my internal body clock. On the other hand, Makoto- _senpai_ startles and goes

about turning it off. “So that means your hour-and-a-half is over, and you can rinse the cabbage now.”

“Rinse the cabbage?”

“Thrice, yes.” I say, scooting over to give him more room. “You can use the cold water from the tap; it‘ll be easier.”

“Thanks,” Makoto- _senpai_ says, his eyebrows crossed in utter concentration as he tries very hard not to drop anything. I go over to the other side of the counter and using a knife slide the meat slices off the cutting board, into the bowl of marinade.

 _Bulgogi_ is by far one of the easiest beef recipes I‘ve got – all that‘s left for us to do now after leaving this in the fridge to marinate another half hour, is to either grill, pan-fry, or barbecue – and it‘s the first one that came to mind once I got Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s phone call.

To be specific: his rather _frantic_ and _embarrassed_ phone call.

“I hope you don‘t mind me asking, Makoto- _senpai_ , but…”

Makoto- _senpai_ smiles softly, as he drains the washed cabbage in a colander before depositing it into one of my bigger mixing bowls, and it is with this smile that he turns to me. “What is it, Rei?”

“…Rin-san would also appreciate it even if you were to buy him this meal, as long as it was _you_ who bought him that, you know that, right?”

“Yes, I do, because Rin‘s a big sappy sap like that. Glad to see I‘m not the only one, though.” Makoto- _senpai_ agrees, smile growing even softer – that was apparently a thing that is possible – as he talks about the recipient of this meal. “But I really wanted to be able to make this myself – and I know I can‘t, though, so I‘ve enlisted your help, both because you‘re the most detail-oriented guy I know, who also knows how to cook, and because Haru had sighed and called me hopeless.”

“…Haruka- _senpai_ would‘ve just taught you how to grill mackerel again, in any case.”

“Indeed.” Makoto- _senpai_ nods. “And I don‘t think Rin likes mackerel half as much as Haru does.”

I chuckle. The face Rin had pulled when Haruka- _senpai_ topped last year‘s Halloween pizza with mackerel was a sight for sore eyes. It remains to now one of the things my mind reverts to remembering when I feel particularly down on my luck – that, our first relay, swimming in the nationals, Nagisa‘s eyes shining as he told me that when I was pole vaulting, I looked _really beautiful_ –

…

…what was I thinking about, again?

“Rei? I kind of lost you there. Are you all right?”

“Ahh? Err…yes, yes, absolutely fine, no need to worry.” I say. The only problem with remembering that last memory is that, even after more than a year had passed, thinking about it still manages to have such an effect on me. To be more precise: _Nagisa_ continues to have such an effect on me. This is something I‘ve come to terms with long ago.

There is a glimmer of _mischief_ in Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s green eyes as he says his next words. “Don‘t worry, Rei. He looks _exactly_ the same when he‘s thinking of you, as well.”

“Who does?” I retort, being exceptionally, intentionally obtuse.

“You know, Nagisa. He isn‘t known for being particularly subtle, you know…and when it comes to him, neither are _you_ , Rei.”

“You‘re one to talk,” I huff, turning my attention to the small red bowls on the counter. “Rin-san‘s habit of giving you all-too-fond epithets doesn‘t make you both ‗subtle‘, either.”

“Love tends to make people _extremely_ silly.”

“That it does.” I reply, and blush because I‘ve surprised myself with how I‘ve replied _extremely quickly_. Makoto- _senpai_ must have noticed this as well, seeing how his smirk intensifies greatly. “I‘ll just…go about, fixing the _kimchi_ paste now.”

“You don‘t have to be so _shy_ about it, Rei,” Makoto- _senpai_ sing-songs, with a naughtiness that reminds me remarkably of _Nagisa_. It seems birds of the same feather really _do_ flock together, after all, and I really _have_ lumped myself in with a quartet of overgrown children. Which makes an interesting notion as to how I would see myself fitting in.

“I‘m not being shy, I‘m just ensuring we stick to schedule.” I say, as I pour cold porridge into my largest mixing bowl. “And you didn‘t answer my question properly, by the way. Nice job at stalling, Makoto- _senpai_ , nobody‘s managed to hold me off for that long.”

“Except Nagisa?”

“Yes, save for him, and please do answer the question.”

“Guess there‘s no harm in telling you, huh.” Makoto- _senpai_ says, scratching the back of his neck as he always does when he‘s embarrassed. “You know that Rin studied in Australia, right?”

I nod, adding the rest of the ingredients – fish sauce, garlic, ginger, onion, an unhealthy amount of hot pepper flakes because Rin once said that he liked spicy things. Makoto- _senpai_ continues talking. “Well – in the midst of all the training and studying and stuff, I‘d doubt that Rin ever had time to make a meal out of scratch. And he didn‘t particularly say he had any friends there, so I think he wouldn‘t be invited to anyone‘s home either. Plus, the standard of living there is different from that in Japan, so I doubt it‘d be easy for him to eat out for anything other than fast food, but he was on a rigid diet and budget so I doubt he‘d want to do so…”

I look at Makoto- _senpai_ , considering his words and the way his eyebrows have furrowed in something that looks oddly like worry. “You‘ve really thought a lot about this, Makoto- _senpai_.”

“Of course I do, I mean, it‘s _Rin_. I want to give him the best.”

“I‘m sure he‘ll be very happy to know that.”

“You think so, Rei?”

“Yes, I‘m certain!” I say, grinning as I mix in the julienned vegetables with the rest of the _kimchi_ paste. Julienne is one of my most favourite slicing techniques – easily executed, consistently beautiful. “Now, what‘s left for us to do is to mix the cabbage in with the paste – oh!”

An unfamiliar guitar riff is heard – from Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s phone, judging from the rectangular light emanating from Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s jeans pocket. “I think you should get that, Makoto- _senpai_.”

“It‘s from Rin.” Makoto- _senpai_ says, with his eyebrows furrowed curiously as he looks down at the screen. “I‘ll just be a moment…”

As he exits the kitchen to take said call, I take a moment to check my own phone – _sixteen_ texts, all from Nagisa, no surprise there. All of them, however, are worded very similarly – the gist of it being a question asking what I and Makoto- _senpai_ had been doing this afternoon.

So I type off a response – I‘ve no idea who else, other than Haruka- _senpai_ and myself, know of Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s plan of cooking for Rin, so I‘ve still got to watch my words. Especially since this is _Nagisa_.

 _Nagisa_ , who could probably talk state secrets off of the Japanese Prime Minister and be able to _get away with it_.

_Makoto-senpai asked for my help in a culinary matter, why do you ask?_

If I ever doubted that Nagisa‘s phone was always in his reach, this would probably be enough to extinguish said doubt: Nagisa‘s reply comes in less than a minute.

_…because he could’ve just asked haruchan?_

_He could’ve, but he wanted to learn how to cook something other than mackerel for a change._

_tsch tsch. makochan’s being picky_ （ＯーＯ） _we’re supposed to go out today! hmph._

_He’s not, and don’t worry, I’ll take you to the zoo another day._

_!!!_ （∂∀∂） _seriously, reichan?_

_Seriously, Nagisa-kun. Now stop fooling around and do your homework._

_i miss you._ （Ｑ〻Ｑ）

_Same here. See you tomorrow._

Makoto- _senpai_ cocks an eyebrow as he returns. “Is that Nagisa?”

“You could tell?” I ask, replacing my phone back to its place on top of the dining table.

“Yes, because I know you. You have this little expression on your face when you‘re thinking about him, where your eyes go all soft and you‘re smiling. It‘s pretty easy to pick up on, to say the least.” Makoto- _senpai_ says, as he pulls tighter on the ties of his apron. “Look, you‘re _still_ wearing it.”

“Don‘t look at me,” I groan, pressing my palms to my burning cheeks. Probably best for me to steer clear of such distracting thoughts – distracting thoughts like Nagisa clutching his phone to his chest and _missing me_ , of all things – and get right to business. We have a schedule to stick to, after all…

“Why shouldn‘t I? I mean,” Makoto- _senpai_ turns to me, flashes me another one of those soft smiles. “It‘s _cute_.”

There we are with those compliments again.

“Makoto- _senpai_ , I think it best that you be careful with your words.” I say, barely fighting back the blush I can feel burning through my cheeks.

“Huh? Why?” Makoto- _senpai_ asks, cocking his head, cutely, _adorably_. It‘s a wonder Rin ever gets _any_ work done, when he‘s in the face of so much cuteness.

“…because your words are strong enough to fell a battalion of men.”

“They are?”

“ _Trust me_ , Makoto- _senpai_. They _are_.”

.

.

.

.

“So that‘s what they‘re doing at Rei‘s then?” Nagisa asks, with one of his eyebrows raised, as he‘s brandishing the rice paddle in his hands somewhat _menacingly._ “ _Just_ cooking?”

“ _Down_ , boy. You‘re scary _enough_ without putting your weird jealousy in the mix.” I sigh, shoving my phone back in my jeans pocket. I love Nagisa, not in _that_ way but I really do, but sometimes he has these _moods_ and I can‘t make sense of him. “Why _are_ you being jealous, anyway? I mean, damn it, Nagisa, this is _Makoto_ we‘re talking about.”

“The very same person who had the _gall_ to call Rei‘s legs ‗beautiful‘ within the first few days of meeting him.” Nagisa appends, scowling, and my ears might be fooling me but I _think_ he actually just _growled_. “I rest my case.”

“Nagisa, keep your act together, okay? You and Rei weren‘t even together back then, so your odd fixation on that one line is unnecessary.” I say, rolling my eyes. “And besides, even if Makoto _did_ find Rei attractive…you don‘t need to worry your pretty little head too much about it.”

“Oh? Tell me why, then.”

“I can do better than that – I can _show_ you why.” I chuckle, and make an all-encompassing hand gesture from chest to waist. “See this? Now, what use would Mako have for your _boytoy_ , Nagisa – no offense – if he‘s already got _me_ to swoon over?”

Nagisa‘s frown grows deeper, but his lips are straining against each other and I know full well that he wants to succumb to laughter right now.

“Don‘t laugh, Nagisa, that‘s _rude_ – especially since I‘m _telling the truth_.” I say, and as Nagisa lets go and _does_ dissolve into giggles, I turn to the third person sitting at our table. “Hey, Haru, you‘re the unbiased person here.”

Haru looks up from his salted mackerel fillet with that same unflinchingly calm look of his that grew old somewhere in the past decade or so. “If that‘s what I am, what does it have to do about anything?”

“You‘d be in a better place to calm down the green-eyed monster we‘ve got on our hands,” I say, jerking a finger at the giggling Nagisa.

“I doubt I‘d be of any help,” Haru drawls, taking out another perfect fingerful of sushi rice. I bet all the grains are facing the same direction, too – that guy‘s seriously so good at miscellaneous stuff that it makes me wonder if he‘s actually really _human_. “And besides: if I were to say that Makoto only paid attention to Rei‘s legs because he keeps track of things like that, like he does _my own_ muscle definition – then I‘d have _another_ green-eyed monster on my hands, won‘t I?”

I have a feeling that Haru‘s meaning to get a rise out of me, which is a bit annoying if only it wasn‘t strangely adorable, how he thinks he has to go such hoops to get my attention. “You won‘t, Haru, because your muscle definition –” I say, pulling up the hem of my shirt to better expose my abs, “– or Speedo Glasses‘, has got _nothing_ on _this_.”

Nagisa‘s giggles grow louder; Haru rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “Overconfidence brings nothing but disappointment, Rin.”

“You‘re one to talk.” I say, suddenly reminded of how Haru had been so adamant to get that summer job in the aquarium, only to get disappointed when he realized that getting it did _not_ mean he could get to swim in the dolphin pool. “Can we get back to business, now?”

Nagisa stops giggling, and once more fixes me with that inscrutable, intensely serious glare of his. “So long as I am reasonably assured that your boyfriend‘s grabby hands will stay off mine.”

“Nagisa, _seriously_?” I sigh. “And don‘t use ‗ _reasonably assured_ ‘ in that sentence, _God_ , you sound like Rei.”

The usual sunny smile suddenly shows up on Nagisa‘s face, temporarily quenching all worries I have for his sanity. “I‘ll take that as a compliment, though!”

“And besides,” I grin a wide, toothy grin, totally feeling smug as I bask in the confirmable truth of my next words. “Like I keep saying – Mako‘s only ever got grabby hands for _me_.”

“That _still_ doesn‘t convince me any,” Nagisa says, and Haru watches as I reach over to shake that smirking little brat by the shoulders. Maybe I‘d be able to shake some goddamned _sense_ into him, though I seriously doubt it.

.

.

.

.

“Makoto- _senpai,_ ” I groan, considering the sight in front of me. “You _really_ don‘t need to put your fingers there, you know.”

“Why?” Makoto- _senpai_ cocks his head once more. It puzzles me, how a guy with his physique, with his age and responsibility, could do such things like _that_ and still manage to look like the most innocent of children. “Rei?”

“Because that‘s a _food processor_ ,” I say, as my mind keeps itself busy with counting down backwards from ten to one, in every language I know – just the two of them – so I don‘t spontaneously combust. “With _blades_. You‘ll cut yourself.”

“Oh? Okay, then.” Makoto- _senpai_ says, sheepishly taking his hands away from the almost-blended _kimchi_ paste. I swoop in, clap the top on the processor before Makoto- _senpai_ could think of dipping his fingers in again, and give the paste a couple more pulses.

Satisfied with how the paste blends, I turn the processor off and move to detach the bowl from its stand. “Pass me the bowl, please?”

“Which bowl?”

“It‘s beside the one with julienned vegetables…the _other_ medium-sized red one, with the chopped shrimp in it.” Makoto- _senpai_ hands me said bowl, and I consider the utensil in it – wooden spoon, definitely not lethally dangerous. “Thank you. Hold this for me?”

“Rei, we‘re just gonna mix this in now, right?”

“Yes, indeed – the paste goes in with the shrimp first, then the vegetables.” I say, dumping in the spicy red paste with the diced shrimp, as Makoto- _senpai_ goes about mixing. “The cabbage comes in last – we‘re going to need gloves, they‘re supposed to have the paste massaged on to them by hand. Remind me to check if I‘ve got enough gloves.”

Makoto- _senpai_ looks at me, then to the bowl in his hands, back to the food processor bowl I‘ve just left in the sink. “We‘ll just need one pair. I can mix in the vegetables and the cabbage; surely you don‘t have to worry about me there.”

“I wasn‘t meaning to…” What was the word Nagisa used when I hovered around and pick on everything he does wrong? Oh, right. “… _nag_ you so much, Makoto- _senpai_ , please don‘t think I‘m being intentionally rude.”

“You‘re not, Rei. And besides, you‘re right to worry about me in the kitchen.” Makoto- _senpai_ admits, as flush colors his cheeks. “Besides…I doubt I‘d be of much help with the grilling, either.”

Oh, right, _grilling_.

As Makoto- _senpai_ turns to add the julienned vegetables in the paste, I consider my cooking receptacles. I‘ve no charcoal grill – a shame, because apparently using one brings out the flavour in _bulgogi_ better, but one must make do with the restrictions brought about by Japanese apartments – but what I _do_ have is one of those stovetop grilling pans, much like the one Haruka- _senpai_ has to grill mackerel.

It‘s one of the first presents Haruka- _senpai_ gave me, probably chosen in the hope that he would be able to convert the only other swim club member who could cook into the dark side.

The side which takes pride in its mackerel obsession.

“It‘s all right, Makoto- _senpai_.” I say, taking the grilling pan from the cupboards and giving it a good rinse. “If you want, you can take all the credit. I don‘t mind.”

“I won‘t bother, Rei; and Rin already knew anyway. He just doesn‘t know that we‘re doing this for _him_.” Makoto- _senpai_ grins as he mixes the vegetables in the paste. “And even if he didn‘t know…he knows me enough to know I‘m _horrible_ at cooking. He‘ll find out that I asked for help sooner or later.”

“Nevertheless, don‘t think that having my help means that your efforts are worth less than they‘re supposed to be.”

Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s jaw falls open, and instead of being suspicious of my words he looks…oddly, _proud_. Again, like a mother watching her children. “How‘d you know I was thinking that?”

“I don‘t. I just thought somebody needed to tell you that.” I say, taking out the airtight plastic containers we‘re going to place _kimchi_ in, as well as the plastic gloves Makoto- _senpai_ needs. “Because that‘s also a thing I should remind myself of, more often. I‘m with Nagisa, and, well, I‘m _me_.”

“Well, go on,” Makoto- _senpai_ says, pulling on the disposable gloves. I bought them at a size that was meant to fit my hands perfectly, so their ends stop just a wee bit higher on Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s wrists. He doesn‘t seem to mind this, though.

“I mean…well. Nagisa-kun‘s forte is in being spontaneous. I‘ve none of that; I‘ve always ever had to plan everything out in advance. So even when I _want_ to be spontaneous, I‘ve always needed to ask for help, and I‘ve long thought that it means I‘m not good enough for him, not all by myself.” I smile. “He threw a right fit when he found out I was thinking that way, though.”

“I‘ve never thought Nagisa would be the one with the temper between you two, though – no offense, Rei.”

“None taken…yes, it‘s him with the temper. It‘s a tiring thing, but –” and here I look away, because there‘s a good chance the next words won‘t be taken as they were meant to be, “– when all is said and done, the intensity with which he wields his temper is actually striking enough so as to be properly considered _beautiful_ –”

What I don‘t expect, however, is for Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s green eyes to fly open in surprise and, well, _understanding_. “ _I know,_ right?” he exclaims. “Haru keeps telling me I‘ve gotta do _something_ about Rin‘s moods – as if he‘s one to talk, his moods aren‘t exactly _stable_ either – but when Rin‘s brooding sometimes I just wanna go over and _kiss him_ –”

“ _Exactly_!” I find myself exclaiming in response, before the words we‘ve just been exchanging finally sink in. We both find ourselves with our cheeks flushing red.

“Let‘s not talk about this again, then?” Makoto- _senpai_ mumbles, realizing just how _honest_ he had been. And I know he shouldn‘t be embarrassed around me – as long as embarrassment goes, I‘ve definitely got him beat to hell and _back_ – but for some reason I can‘t help but feel shocked.

As if I was a child seeing his parents kiss.

Maybe, I think, when it comes to me witnessing Makoto- _senpai_ and Rin‘s relationship, I really _am_ just a child seeing his parents kiss.

“Yes, let‘s.” I say, shaking my head. As if doing that would eradicate all traces of red on my treacherous cheeks. “How‘s the _kimchi_ going along?”

“ _Swimmingly_ ,” Makoto- _senpai_ says, with a little chuckle. “This is surprisingly fun, though.”

“As long as you‘ve got your ingredients all sorted out, it‘s a very easy thing to make. I make it as a stress reliever, actually.” I say, taking the marinated beef slices out of the fridge. “But it doesn‘t always work. Once, when I had been terribly burnt out from exams, I made so much _kimchi_ – _too much kimchi_ – using around six heads of cabbage, if memory serves me right. It was not until I was going to bed that night that I realized something, though.”

Makoto- _senpai_ looks at me, considers the wary smile on my face. I know full well that he‘d recognize my look as being one of embarrassment. “What did you realize?”

“That I hadn‘t been wearing gloves _the whole time_ ,” I sigh, and Makoto- _senpai_ laughs. “Seriously – I‘d been scrubbing at my eyes back then, and only noticed that something was up when they started _burning_.”

“Not _literally_ , I hope.”

“Aside from the absence of actual flames that fire extinguishers could deal with, _definitely_ literally. I had no choice but to stay in – I was a sobbing mess for two days.”

“Sorry for that,” Makoto- _senpai_ says, his eyes positively _glowing_ with mirth.

“It‘s fine, just – can I be confident that not a word of this shall be said to Nagisa-kun?”

“You‘ve got my word, Rei, promise.” Makoto- _senpai_ assures me, making the ‗cross-my-heart‘ gesture.

“ _Good_.” I say, letting out a deep breath. “Anyway, Makoto- _senpai_ , are you going straight to Rin-san‘s dorm after this?”

“He did mention something about Nitori-kun being home for the weekend, so yes, I guess I am.” Makoto- _senpai_ replies, massaging the spicy red paste into the cabbage chunks surprisingly, meticulously, well. “Why‘d you ask?”

“Does Rin-san have a microwave in his room? Because if you ask me, it‘d be best if he ate this straightaway, but if he couldn‘t he should at least heat it first – beef becomes greasy very quickly, after all.”

“I think he has a microwave, and Samezuka‘s a few stops away anyway.” Makoto- _senpai_ says. “Would we need a fridge for the _kimchi_?”

“Preferably, if you would want your _kimchi_ to taste fresher – keeping it in the fridge makes it ferment slowly. It‘s fine to keep it outside if he likes his _kimchi_ sourer, though.”

“I‘ll ask him later, then.” Makoto- _senpai_ nods to himself. He shows me the contents of the _kimchi_ bowl, sheepish as he asks, “Would that be all right?”

“I think we‘re done, Makoto- _senpai_.” And the _kimchi_ looks so good – perfectly red and blended, with its signature mouth-watering spicy smell. The big smile on Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s face only makes the culinary success taste even sweeter. “If Rin-san has the _gall_ to not be utterly beside himself with _joy_ over this, I will _personally_ saunter off to Samezuka to clock him upside his smug little face.”

“That‘s sweet of you, Rei,” Makoto- _senpai_ says, doing that little smile again. “We probably won‘t need it, but – I appreciate the concern.”

“Just say the word, Makoto- _senpai_.” I say, opening the lids of the airtight containers. “I‘ll start grilling now, but if you could help me pack the _kimchi_?”

“I‘d be happy to.”

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“Haru, are you seeing this?”

Haru humors me by looking up from his beloved work-in-progress mackerel sushi, and there is a faint glimmer to his blue eyes that warns me of the mischief that is surely soon to come. “I‘m seeing a lot of things, Rin. You‘d have to be more specific.”

“ _Tsch_.” I click my tongue, restraining myself, because I‘m pretty sure Makoto won‘t particularly like me tackling his best friend. Unless said best friend was planning to swim in another one of those pet shop aquariums, of course. “ _Fine_. Are you seeing what _Nagisa_ is doing?”

“Hmm?”

“Just look at _that_ ,” I say, gesturing as Nagisa carefully piles minced chicken meat to one side of the round plate. “Our little boy‘s making proper scattered sushi. Like a good old housewife.”

Nagisa beams, hearing my obvious stage-whispering, flashing us both a peace sign. “You bet! _Mama_ Mako-chan‘s gonna be _so_ proud of me. Won‘t he be, Haru-chan- _papa_?”

“I‘m not your father,” Haru says, turning his attention back to molding his mackerel sushi to the desired shape. It‘s a miracle he‘s engrossed enough with molding the mackerel to perfection that he doesn‘t just go and gobble up the whole thing, like I know he‘ll do eventually… _gradually_ , because if I know Haru, and I _do_ , he‘s slow as hell when it comes to eating.

“Yeah, that he isn‘t, though it would explain your going along with eating all his mackerel.” I say, and Haru glares. I decide it best to ignore him. “If anything, Nagisa, _I’m_ your dad. I‘m the one in the relationship with Mama Mako, aren‘t I?”

Nagisa raises an eyebrow, pausing in the middle of moving around minced tuna. “You don‘t give off a particularly father-like impression, but it does explain how annoyed you were at Rei when you first met him; all fathers hate their sons-in-law, at some point. Maybe you‘re just my stepdad and Haru-chan-papa‘s my actual dad?”

“Nonsense. If anything, Haru‘s your _brother_ , what with how much time your Mama Mako and I spend fussing over the two of you.” I say, strangely more dedicated to this hypothetical family structure than I‘m supposed to. “It‘s a good thing you‘ve got yourself Rei, son – at least that means we‘ve only got your silly big bro left to worry about.”

“I am _not_ ,” Haru groans, “a _child_ , who needs to have people fussing over him.”

“Haru, not to break your little bubble, but you _are_ the kind of person who Mako and I devote massive amounts of time watching over to make sure that you haven‘t ended up

as fish food underneath the Tokyo Bay yet; I think that‘s the very _definition_ of someone needing people to fuss over him.”

“I won‘t end up as fish food,” Haru deadpans.

“But how can you be so _sure_?”

“Because the water and I, we understand each other.”

I sigh, bearing the brunt of being the unfortunate recipient of too much incomprehensible logic in just one day. “I _knew_ there was a reason why I should‘ve gone with Mako and Rei instead.”

“Finally accepting how right I am?” Nagisa quips, cocking an eyebrow. With a stolen glance at his scattered sushi, I can see that Rei‘s meticulousness seems to be rubbing off on him more than he thought – contrary to the name, the toppings are not just scattered, their partitions perfectly divided, not a grain or slice out of place.

“What did I say about _not overthinking stuff_ , Nagisa?” I say, sighing; on any other day I‘d find it hilarious that cute unassuming little Nagisa is the one who goes all _territorial_ on his tall, strong, cool-looking boyfriend, but today he seems to prefer casting shadows on the integrity of _my_ tall, strong, (for the most part) cool-looking boyfriend, which is something I cannot stand for, _ever_. “It‘s not for the reason your hyperactive mind is thinking – which is _rubbish_ , by the way – but for a far simpler one.” I groan, falling back onto Haru‘s tatami-matted floors. “ _I miss my sanity._ ”

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We‘re just about finished packing everything up – Makoto- _senpai_ insists that I at least retain a container of the _kimchi_ we‘ve made today, and I insist that he take away more than what he‘s given me, in return – when Makoto- _senpai_ sneezes.

“Bless you,” I say, holding out the tissue box to him.

“Thanks, Rei.” he replies, taking my proffered tissues. “That reminded me of Haru, all of a sudden.”

“Really? How so?” I say, all the while knowing that Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s known Haruka- _senpai_ all his life and as such there‘s a big chance that they have a shared history specific enough to cover even the littlest things.

“It was before we met you, actually; back when we had just met up with Rin – Haru was sneezing, and he said something along the lines of ‗ _grandma said that if you sneeze it means someone’s talking about you_ ‘.”

“It could also mean that you‘re coming down with something? Or…that you‘re having an allergic reaction to your surroundings…” I murmur, looking around at my kitchen. Our cooking fiasco seems to have made it more than a little disheveled, to say the very least.

“It‘s not the surroundings, Rei, you‘ve made a very good job of keeping stuff clean ‗round here.” Makoto- _senpai_ says, smiling shyly as he sniffs. “I‘ll help you with the clean up, don‘t worry.”

“But you have to get the food to Rin-san pronto, Makoto- _senpai_ ; if you don‘t, the beef might go greasy. It‘d be a waste, and the next train comes in…” I look down on my wrist, “…around ten minutes. Don‘t mind me; please go.”

“Rei…”

“I can handle this, please don‘t worry,” I beam, because I‘ve managed to clean out my entire apartment in a single day and so I know full well that bringing my kitchen back to its post-cooking state would be a piece of cake. “You‘ve got everything, right?”

Makoto- _senpai_ plunges his hand into the depths of the tote bag I loaned him – which in turn was a gift from Nagisa; that penguin-printed tote really _is_ the only thing big enough to fit all the containers – and takes out the container he placed on top. “I‘ve got the _bulgogi_ , and three containers of _kimchi_ , and, oh, Rei, what are these smaller containers for?”

“Side dishes,” I say, placing the used ingredient bowls to the growing pile of dirty dishes in the sink. “Koreans eat their meals with side dishes, much like we do. _Kimchi_ is the most famous one of them, but personally – well, _I_ like the pickled radishes better. I made it so there‘s enough for two, so don‘t worry.”

“Thanks a lot, Rei, I dunno what I would‘ve done without you.” Makoto- _senpai_ says. “I‘d probably be terribly injured by now.”

That _is_ most probably true, considering Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s general confusion about culinary matters and how he had been when he wasn‘t realizing how dangerous it was to _stick his hand in a food processor_ , but it‘s not as if I‘m just going to go and say that. “You say such nice words, Makoto- _senpai_ , you really don‘t have to, just tell me how it goes, okay?”

“I‘ll tell you so long as you promise that you won‘t _actually_ go to Samezuka to punch Rin if he doesn‘t get, in your words, ‗ _beside himself with joy’_. When it comes to stuff like this, my boyfriend‘s a very shy person, if you haven‘t noticed it already.”

“I can make no promises,” I reply, wiping my hands on the dishcloth. “And besides, children should always make sure that their fathers are treating their mothers as they should be treated.”

A smirk finds its way to Makoto- _senpai_ ‘s face. “Here you are again with that parenting thing. I‘m really never gonna live that down, huh?”

“You‘re a good mother figure, Makoto- _senpai_ , you‘ve got nothing to be ashamed about.” I say, taking my keys off their peg, and my coat as well. “I‘ll walk you to the station.”

“Thanks, Rei, really; if you ever need any of my help, don‘t ever hesitate to call.”

I laugh, once, thinking of all the times when I would ever ‗need help‘ – more than half of those times would singlehandedly be caused by _Nagisa_ , as a matter of fact. And when one realizes just how much time I spend around him… “You‘re going to regret you said that, _senpai_.”

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So I get back home from Haru‘s place, right? As it turns out mackerel doesn‘t seem like such a bad idea after it‘s been salted and placed on top of vinegar rice, I‘d agree that much.

Still won‘t want it on seafood pizza, though.

I log in with the receptionist without a second thought, and sigh as I take the staircase up to my room. Ai isn‘t even around – visiting with his parents, who are sappy as hell and fuss over him too much to be healthy, but that isn‘t a bad thing at all if you ask me – so I resign myself to the fact that there‘s nothing waiting for me at the end of the tunnel but my fluffy bottom bunk and another few hours of solid sleep.

Hopefully without the more disturbing dreams.

Of course I‘d wanna call Mako before I go to sleep, because _I’m_ sappy and _he’s_ sappy and we miss each other like that, but he‘s probably asleep by now? Between his younger sibs and the Iwatobi Swim Team – who all act even _younger_ , at least as far as maturity is concerned – he‘d need all the sleep he can get.

As it turns out, though, when I open the door, I do realize that I‘m right and Mako really _is_ sleeping.

It just never crossed my mind that he‘d be sleeping anywhere other than home, and even if it did, _my own bed_ would be pretty low on the list of places I‘d think of. I _am_ an old-fashioned romantic, after all.

Mako really _is_ an unbearably handsome person, and if ever I was too _stupid_ not to realize that in the first place, seeing him like this would‘ve been enough to convince me. As I close the door behind me I find myself thinking that it‘s a _good thing_ that nobody else had seen him, because if they did they might find themselves falling in love too and I just might have to _beat them senseless_ –

Oh wait, _oh no_ , please don‘t tell me that _Nagisa_ ‘s been rubbing off on me –

I sigh, willing the thought out of my mind, and help myself to sitting down on a chair I‘ve placed by Mako‘s bedside.

I know, I know, watching my boyfriend sleep has got to be one of my more creepy ideas, but it‘s not as if I‘ve done creepier things. Like hide behind the dark, crumbling walls of our childhood swim club to ensure that I have a dramatic entry, or smell mackerel curry from fifty meters and a kitchen away, or almost hit my roomie with a kicked-around trash can.

…those were not the proudest moments of my life, if it wasn‘t obvious enough, by the way. But, for some reason, despite my knowledge that watching people sleep is creepy and something I‘ve only read in Gou‘s teen romance novels – which are _not_ mine, by the way, they are very obviously _Gou’s_ , don‘t _ever_ let Nagisa fool you – I don‘t think I can be ashamed by what I‘m doing at all.

The point is that my Mako‘s so _breathtaking_ even in sleep and only a complete _idiot_ would ever let this moment pass without taking a minute – or two, or five, or _thirty_ – to bask in the perfection of it.

His lips are turned up in a little smile of sorts, and his cheek is smushed against my pillow, which he‘s somehow got to embracing, and he‘s curled up into myself and if that‘s not the cutest thing _ever_ I‘d file all my canines blunt with _my own hands_ , I swear.

“ _Ummmmh_ … _Rin_ …?”

“ _Guhh_.” I hear myself saying – _yelping?_ – _lamely_ , as I find myself taking three guilty steps back. Mako doesn‘t notice my jitters, or my flushed cheeks, in part because he‘s still half-asleep and in part because he‘s scrubbing at his eyes as he sits up and bumps his head on the top bunk.

“ _Ow,_ ” Mako mutters, rubbing at his head once he‘d finished with his eyes. “Good evening, Rin. How long was I out?”

“I dunno,” I say, sitting down at the other side of the mattress, because the shadow of the top bunk would hide my flaming cheeks, if nothing else. Damn my general pale-ness. I‘m not as pale as some vampire guys on some novels that I really have _not_ been

reading, or _Ai_ , but in comparison to nicely tanned, perfectly _perfect_ Mako…I blame the indoor pool. Anyway. “You were already asleep when I came home, and the receptionist didn‘t say I had a guest so I dunno when you got here. How _did_ you get here?”

“Well, Rin, let‘s just say that there are times when I‘m really glad you gave me your new jacket,” Makoto says, a little bit _too_ smugly, as he motions towards the black Samezuka jacket hanging on the back of Ai‘s desk chair.

The thing is, that ‗new‘ jacket isn‘t actually meant for me at all – it‘s just that ever since we got together Mako‘s gotten a knack for swiping my jacket off of me, and while it _does_ look funny and a bit hot for his muscles to be bursting through the sleeves, it doesn‘t look comfy, so at the first chance I had I had myself penciled in for a ‗new‘ jacket, some two sizes larger, and wore it around Mako so much until he swiped it from me too and I joked that he should ‗keep it for yourself, then‘.

“Whoa, Mako‘s breaking into dorms for me. I feel honored.”

“I just thought it‘d be nice to be bold for a while, I guess.” Mako says, his skin flushing faintly pink. See what I said about tanner skin? “Since you‘re always so bold about stuff all the time. I wanted to return the favor.”

“Sheesh, Mako, has butterfly boy _really_ been rubbing off on everyone?” I say, because reciprocation was sort of Rei‘s _thing_ and it had been especially obvious during the time he‘d made an attempt at growling English death metal just because I‘d humored him and sung along with his sappy Japanese love songs. Not one of our best moments, but not one of our worst, for sure. “You don‘t have to tire yourself out for me, Mako. It‘s late!”

“I told mum that I‘d be staying out late and _might_ be sleeping over at a friend‘s place, so no worries,” Mako shrugs. “I didn‘t say exactly _which_ friend I‘d be staying over with, though…”

“ _Naughty_ , Mako. I never knew you had it in you to lie.” I say, grinning like the cat who got the cream.

“Well – I wasn‘t exactly lying – I mean, I just didn‘t feel the need to specify that I was gonna crash on the bed of the friend I have who also _happens to be_ my boyfriend…” Mako murmurs, flushing pink again as he look down at his hands. “It‘s really nothing special.”

“Still. I know I shouldn‘t be encouraging you, but thanks for this, Mako.” I say, pulling his face down to give him a chaste, close-lipped kiss. “I really miss you, y‘know?”

“ _Rin!_ ” Mako squawks, just like he always does when I kiss him, backing away from me with both his palms squishing his now rosy-pink cheeks. I roll my eyes.

“Aw, re _lax_. Me wanting to kiss you isn‘t exactly a bad idea, Mako.” I say, leaning against my bedroom wall as Mako pinches himself. “Why‘d you wanna come visit, anyway?”

“Besides the obvious reason that I miss you and wanted to see you?” Mako says, not missing a beat, as other boyfriends would do, as he says these words.

And I don‘t miss a beat or blush harder either, because we‘re both sappy big saps and we like it this way, we‘ve come to terms with this long before. “Yes, besides the obvious reason.”

“Well, then.” Mako says. It‘s another thing that reminds me of Rei – _well then_ – and I really shouldn‘t be baring my teeth over this but I _am_ , so I place a hand over my mouth and try to induce coughing. “I told you I was over at Rei‘s earlier, right? He helped me with this,” and here Mako rifles through a tote bag at my bedside that‘s alarmingly bright and _yellow_ and I really should‘ve noticed it earlier if only sleeping Mako weren‘t being such a distraction. “Here. It‘s still a bit warm, thanks to this container, but if you want it warmer…do you have a microwave, Rin?”

“Yeah, but you don‘t have to heat it up on my account. If it‘s still a bit warm, then I guess it‘d be all right.” I reply, watching as Mako stands up to set the containers on my desk. Off goes the covers of two bowls of steaming rice, as well as a set of smaller airtight containers, and a container whose smell could only mean one thing –

“ _Mako_ ,” I breathe, my voice suspiciously going this side of _reverent_ , “Did you just go ask for Rei‘s help ‗cuz you wanted to get me _bulgogi_??”

“I did,” Mako says, cocking his head as if he wasn‘t being the most perfect boyfriend to ever have walked the earth. “Don‘t you like it? Rei even helped me get the good beef…”

“…of course I like it, love, you are absolutely the _best boyfriend ever_.” I say, taking Mako‘s face in my hands and kissing him soundly on the lips. And before he could even think of being embarrassed, I kiss him again.

And again.

And _again_.

“— nnh, _Rin_ ,” Mako mumbles, as he pulls me off of his person, panting for breath, “Not that I don‘t like the attention, but the food‘s getting cold.”

“Tsch, I knew you being around Rei all the time is a bad idea — you‘re starting to become less fun.” I grumble, as — this is not something I‘m particularly proud of, but

this is what happened — I frown rather spectacularly towards Mako‘s direction. “I miss _my_ Mako.”

Mako only rolls his eyes and sighs as I snake my arms around his waist. Of course he‘s got the patience to sit through my moods thrice over — how else would a guy manage to be BFFs with Haru and his water fetish for that long? “I‘m not saying _never_ , Rin, I‘m saying _later_. Take a seat and eat your dinner now.”

“Yes, Mother.” I say, tightening my embrace, because even if I‘m going to regret this in the morning I am really just a child and I still believe that clinging to the things I love makes it harder for me to lose them.

“Don‘t think acting cute is gonna let me go easy on you, mister.” Mako says, wrapping his free arm ‗round my shoulder and holding me close. “Haven‘t I told you that it‘s not nice to be jealous of your friends?”

“Yeah, well, Nagisa‘s kind of a bad influence.” I say, and sigh. “ _Mama Mako-chan_.”

“Be the bigger man, Rin dear, you _know_ you have to set an example for the children.” Mako hums, as he lets go of me to set beef strips atop a bowl of white rice. “You _are_ the father figure in this story, after all.”

“Really?” I say, and I really shouldn‘t be this fixated upon this hypothetical scenario where Mako and I are Haru and Nagisa‘s parents, but I _am_ and hearing him say those words gives me no small amount of relief.

“Well – Nagisa did thrust the mother role upon me, after all. The _least_ he can do is to instate my boyfriend to be the one I made vows to.”

“Here we are with these big words again…”

“Rin, do I _seriously_ have to teach you all the different reasons why you shouldn‘t get jealous of your fake son‘s real boyfriend?” Mako chides, firmly, but rather incredulously, as if he never expected to be saying that sentence. I get where he‘s coming from, though.

In reply – I really must be snooping around Gou‘s romance novels too much, because I sigh. And then I bat my eyelashes, because no-one‘s here to watch me make a fool out of myself and because Mako knows me all too well to know that if there‘s something that drives people to act like fools it‘s love, and I‘m so in love with him that the world can end and I‘d have my arms wrapped around him and not care at all so of _course_ this is what follows.

“Maybe? I have to tell you, though – I‘m an extremely _kinetic_ learner.”

Mako doesn‘t chuckle, but it‘s a close thing, as I see the mirth building up in his eyes as he pulls closer. “It‘s good that _kinetic_ is my favourite way of teaching, then. But I insist – _after dinner_.”

“Mako, love, you are an extremely _terrible_ tease, did you know that?” I groan, but Mako doesn‘t reply; only takes a slice of meat with his chopsticks and has me eat it.

“How is it?”

“Delicious. Could be better though –” I say, raising an eyebrow as I look up at him.

“– _after dinner_ , I said.”

“Okay,” I concede, finally, because my boyfriend‘s presence is warm and the _bulgogi_ is great and somewhere along the way Mako‘s gonna kiss me senseless in a misguided but deeply appreciated attempt to teach the mile-wide jealous streak out of me.

And if I were anything but ‗okay‘ with how my night is going to go, then Haru must‘ve been right all those years and I really must be too stupid to function.

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I open the door extremely aware of the lateness of the hour, so when Nagisa lunges into me with one of his patented tackle-hugs I take it with less resistance than I usually do; I topple over.

“Nagisa-kun? But how – your family?”

“Rei-chan, my sisters had been telling my parents that I was going on sleepovers with my ‗handsome boyfriend‘ long before we actually _became_ boyfriends. If none of them ever noticed that I never make any objections, then I don‘t think that the problem lies with me.”

The first thing one has to learn about Nagisa is that he is both terribly good at asking questions, and _dodging_ them when they get hurled his way. “That‘s not exactly an answer.”

“Okay, fine, they know I‘m staying over.” Nagisa says, rolling his eyes to the tune of _Rei-chan is a nagging nagger and he has got to stop nagging somehow_. Then he kisses me. “Did you have dinner yet, Rei-chan?”

I‘ve half a mind to stop myself from saying some cheesy line like _looking at you is taking care of my hunger pangs_ , thankfully, because I don‘t think I‘d ever live it down if ever I did say so. As if I didn‘t have _enough_ things I could never live down already. “Yes. I‘ve still got _bulgogi_ left over, though – you want any?”

“Of course I ‗want any‘, Rei-chan, this is _your_ cooking we‘re talking about.” Nagisa says, rolling his eyes, and as I stand up to take the leftovers out the fridge the butterfly-print tote that Nagisa‘s got in his hands finally registers with me.

“Can I get that for you, Nagisa-kun?”

“No can do, Rei-chan,” Nagisa replies, and there‘s a deliciously _mischievous_ twinkle to his eyes as he looks at me and stage-whispers, “ _It’s a surprise_.”

I square my shoulders and say “All right, then,” as I walk away to reheat leftovers because I am a grown man with admirable restraint and if my boyfriend is planning on surprising me then I know full well that I shan‘t let silly things like my curiosity ruin his plans. I know, he has yet to grant me this same courtesy, but then again, this is _Nagisa_ we‘re talking about.

I don‘t look back but I can hear Nagisa‘s footfalls follow me down my apartment, pausing at my dining table to pull a chair out as I pop plastic containers into the microwave. I raid my fridge again and hum to myself, pleased that I still have enough leftovers of the side dishes to make another serving, and as I turn around to see the table that‘s when I see it.

Nagisa‘s smile has always been beautiful beyond compare, but right now – seeing him look at me with that mix of affection, pride, and barely-restrained glee, it remains a wonder to me how I can look at all that beauty head-on and not get horribly blinded by the intensity. It‘s brilliant enough that I almost miss the faint twinge of hesitance weaved in the expression, but just almost.

Then, I realize just why exactly Nagisa had been so adamant about going to the aquarium earlier, and suddenly I just want to kick myself for forgetting. I have the occasion written across four time tables, one mobile phone and two Excel spreadsheets – how could I have forgotten? “Happy…‗ _monthsary’_ , Nagisa-kun.”

“Aww, hearing you trip over the word is always the best part of celebrating this. You look _soooo_ flustered, Rei-chan.” Nagisa says, cocking an eyebrow and not at all looking disappointed that I had forgotten. But then again, Nagisa‘s a good liar. I guess I‘ve have to check with him later. “Happy monthsary, Rei-chan, this is for you.”

He nudges a round lacquer _bentou_ my direction – a new one, I wager, since I spend so much time at his house that I think I‘d remember if I ever saw one printed with gold-lined purple butterflies in his possession. A closer inspection shows me an orderly division of vegetables, chicken and tuna, looking very much like –

“Nagisa-kun, is this –”

“I tried, but I know it‘s got nothing on your mum‘s recipe, so don‘t get your hopes up just yet, Rei-chan.” Nagisa blurts out, looking antsy and nervous and very much not like himself. “And besides, I‘m not a good cook either, so if anything happens –”

“Nothing‘s going to happen,” I say, because I know for a fact that Nagisa‘s not as bad a cook as he makes himself out to be, and because I love Nagisa so much that I quantifiably believe that he can mangle any recipe and I can eat it and still come out of it okay. Not that I‘ve tried testing that second option out, but I believe in it so much so that I think it‘s worth saying. “You‘ve done a very good job, Nagisa-kun.”

“Thanks,” I hear Nagisa mumble, as I pry out a decent half-spoonful from the bowl with my chopsticks and chew.

The first thought that comes to mind is that it sounds oddly like blasphemy to think that this is as good as Mother‘s cooking, if not _better_ , but that‘s what _I_ think and maybe this bias of mine is something that Mother is better off not knowing. She approves of Nagisa, sort of. Maybe. I think having her know I think Nagisa bests her in the kitchen might reverse that prior opinion.

The second thought is that Nagisa, who doesn‘t particularly like cooking, took time to make this _just for me_ , and it makes my heart do leaps and somersaults in my chest. It reminds me very much of the showy kind of routine I only used to daydream about when I was still on the track team.

The third thought emerges from where the first two thoughts coincide, and it tells me something I already know – that right now I am so happy I could just pull Nagisa close and kiss him.

If my mental patterns weren‘t obvious enough, this is the first thought I act on.

I only truly realize how long I‘ve been kissing him because when we break the kiss Nagisa‘s audibly gasping for breath. If I were to be honest, I‘d say that I like the mussed-haired, red-cheeked look on him more often, but then again when it comes to him I never could offer an unbiased opinion so instead I say “Stop being modest, Nagisa-kun, it never did suit you.”

“So that means that it was –”

I‘d say _better than I expected_ but the implications of me having expectations might hurt Nagisa‘s feelings, and to be honest I really don‘t have expectations in the first place because I‘m so far gone and Nagisa could give me pebbles off the side of the street and I‘d be praising the heavens. I‘d say _better than Mother’s cooking_ because it‘s true but knowing him and him knowing me he probably won‘t believe it. I can choose a thousand other words, say a thousand other phrases, but there‘s no saying they can accurately

express how the gift makes me feel. So I lean in to kiss him again, and hope he understands.

And when he kisses back, I know he does.

We pull away when the microwave goes off and I retrieve Nagisa‘s portion of the _bulgogi_ meal Makoto- _senpai_ and I had been making earlier. I hand him the bowl, and he smiles brilliantly as he accepts it, his eyes no longer clouded with worry or shyness or anything else that isn‘t pure and simple _love_ – and we spend the rest of the night eating in each other‘s company, stealing looks at each other and smiling.

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.

.

Who even thought that calling in the middle of the night was a socially acceptable thing to do, is what I‘d wanna ask, but then again we and our friends aren‘t the best examples of ‗socially acceptable‘ either. So I sigh, knowing that I probably am going to get out of the warm fluffiness of my bed to listen to another one of Nagisa‘s inane plots, and take the call.

I‘m not exactly surprised when it turns out to be _Haru_ ‘s voice waiting for me on the other side of the line, but I hadn‘t been expecting it, either.

“You‘re using your phone today,” I whistle, knowing that I‘m stating the obvious and if Haru were here I‘d probably see him rolling his eyes. “Now that‘s a first.”

Haru doesn‘t address that – aside from water and mackerel and, occasionally, Makoto, he doesn‘t ever seem to address much of _anything_. This is what I‘m thinking of when I hear him say his first words. “I‘ll tell Uncle and Aunt that Makoto‘s staying over at my place.”

“Huh?”

“Makoto‘s there, isn‘t he?” I can almost hear Haru sigh. Almost. His voice is so soft I‘ve no idea how it even gets transmitted my way.

“Yeah, yeah, he is.” All six-foot-whatever of him. He‘s on the side of my bunk closest to the bedroom wall, and even now his arms are reaching out for the side where I had been. Watching his frown as he struggles to hug empty air makes my chest hurt, and I suddenly want nothing more but to end this convo pronto so I can sink into that embrace again. “What of it?”

“Makoto sleeps over at my place all the time,” Haru says, “and having him suddenly decide to stay at this time of night sounds like something Makoto would do.”

If I were properly awake enough I‘d probably be almost touched that Haru would go to such lengths to excuse us, because when everything‘s said and done Haru‘s still my friend and these are the kinds of silly little things that make me tear up. But as it is it‘s two o‘clock in the morning and Haru‘s the guy who gets to go on sleepovers with _my_ boyfriend all the time without courting scandal and I kinda wanna punch him.

…Mako was right when he said I needed anger management lessons. This isn‘t a surprise – he usually is.

Haru doesn‘t even let me get a word in edgewise, which is good since if I were to let loose in that mood I dunno what he‘d say in return. Probably something abstract like ‗ _fly with your heart_ ‘ again. Haru had never been very good at giving advice. “Bring Makoto to my place on the first train in the morning, and I‘ll take it from here. You guys should probably give me a few days‘ notice the next time you want to do that, though.”

“What do you mean you‘ll ‗ _take it from here’_ –” I begin, the irrational part of me growling with something that on a clearer day might have been called something like ‗ _jealousy’_ or ‗ _possessiveness’_ , until the rest of Haru‘s words finally register with me. “‗ _The next time_ ‘?”

“Makoto likes spending time with you,” Haru says, as dull, as impassive, but as _confident_ as any little kid who‘d say with absolute certainty that _the sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening_. “It makes him happy. _You_ make him happy. And I will help him achieve this happiness, as much as I can.”

I press a hand to my mouth because I am _Rin Matsuoka_ , grown man, fantastic swimmer, with sharp teeth and an even sharper ‗tude, and I‘d do a thousand embarrassing stuff before I‘d let my sorta-kinda rival hear me sobbing over sappy stuff like this.

But I can‘t help thinking that Haru‘s putting himself on the chopping block here. I dunno what exactly Mako‘s parents think of our relationship, but even if I really am not planning on _going further_ with him – like I said, old-fashioned romantic – I think they‘d prefer us having the kind of relationship that has a curfew. If they didn‘t approve of us enough to allow us sleeping in like this together, and they found out that Haru‘d been covering for us the whole time –

I can‘t help it; as I blink a single tear drop makes its way down my cheek. My voice sounds a bit weird as I croak, “Thanks.”

“It‘s best that you know this, though,” Haru says, in a different tone than his usual, and I think that a lesser man would‘ve fallen to his knees, it sounded that eerie. As things are I find myself holding on to my study desk a bit more tightly than usual; Haru‘s voice

dripped with such serene _fury_ that yes, it had been enough to scare me, too. “Makoto is _very_ important to me.”

There are a thousand ways I could go through with this, but none of them seem to want to help me right now. So I swallow down my nerves and decide to go for brevity. “Well, that‘s _obvious_ , Haru.”

“So I guess it‘d also be obvious that if you ever _dare_ to hurt Makoto, I will _destroy_ you.” Haru says, and for some reason I can‘t help thinking that this is the most emotion I‘ve heard from him, ever, not even close to the emotions shimmering in his stupidly blue eyes whenever he‘d say something about water and pools. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” I say, being unapologetically brief ‗cuz I‘m knackered and just really wanna continue cuddling with my boyfriend now, and ‗cuz Haru‘s scary voice doesn‘t sound like something that people‘d say ‗no‘ to. “See you.”

“Take care of Makoto, Rin.” Haru says, and just like that, the call ends.

I sigh, wondering what had gone into Haru‘s head for him toe spring the ‗if you ever hurt him‘ speech on me all of a sudden, and also racking my brain for tomorrow‘s train timetables. Then I look over to my bed and suddenly I begin wondering why Mako looks so damned _good_ in my tank tops, and thinking that the world is being unfair ‗cause it‘s not making Mako wear them at least half as much as I do.

But then again. Arms like those would probably stop too much traffic. Cause too much destruction. People would be running into each other and spilling too much stuff because of this lovely tall guy with soft smiles and arms that absolutely _burst_ with toned muscle, that sort of thing.

I can hear him mumbling my name in his sleep as he still struggled with embracing the air from where I‘d been just a few minutes earlier, and it all falls into place – that Makoto is handsome and kind and too sweet to even be _real_ , and he‘s right here, with me, and being with me makes him _happy_. _I_ make him happy.

So I replace my phone on its spot on my study desk – _not_ Ai‘s, I‘d probably lose it in all that stuff he keeps around – and carefully resume my post as Mako‘s teddy bear, apparently, ‗cuz he smiles this stupid little smile when I settle back into his arms and it reminds me very much of all the times when Gou was little and I‘d put her stuffed toys back into her arms after they somehow fell. She‘d smiled like that, back then.

Just like how Mako‘s smiling now, the picture of contentment as his arms wrap tighter around me. “… _mmm…Rin_.”

I can feel my lips turning up into a smile I don‘t use very often. Just when I‘m around him and no one else is there to see – mainly ‗cause Nagisa would start teasing me and he‘s already getting on my nerves enough. “Good night, Mako,” I hear myself mumble, leaning in so my head rests on his shoulder. “Love you.”

That night I don‘t have any nightmares. No dreams, either – and that‘s a good thing, ‗cause I don‘t think that there‘s any dream that could be better than being wrapped up in the feel of Mako‘s warmth.

Well – there _is_ one dream, but it‘s not exactly for general patronage. I think it‘d be best if I just kept it to myself.

.

.

.

.

I already think that Nagisa is beautiful. That is, of course, before I ever got to see him sleeping – _properly_ sleeping, on a bed or a couch or a _futon_ , not on my shoulder in the train ride home, though drool aside even that had its own appeal. Maybe I‘m just biased. Love tends to do that, after all.

But, the point is – yes, there really is a point to my saying all this in the first place – when Nagisa‘s asleep like this he looks a whole other kind of beautiful from the one I‘m used to seeing in him when he‘s awake. With his eyes closed and hair going places he almost looks calm, _ethereal_ even. Like some sort of supernatural being, an angel I‘d somehow got to follow me home.

In the silence that stretches between us I can hear him mumbling my name.

He dreams of me.

It‘s only fair, since I dream of him, too.

I‘m about to excuse myself, to busy myself with reading books on the table beside my bed because Nagisa‘s sleeping and looking at his face is keeping me awake in a way that coffee or apples or academics couldn‘t so I best make good use of it, when all of a sudden Nagisa‘s arm shoots out to wrap around one of my wrists. And _pulls_.

Normally I‘d fall into his arms with a grace that, if I may say so myself, would probably make Haruka- _senpai_ proud. But it‘s late at night and I‘ve just spent the last few minutes looking at Nagisa‘s beautiful sleeping face, so yes, I do topple over ungracefully on my own bed, half on top of Nagisa as he frowns and grumbles. “Ngh. Rei-chan… _stay_.”

Some little part of me – the _cheeky_ part, the one I probably inherited from him – wants to joke about how Nagisa should really stop calling after me like I was some cute puppy or something, and the least he could do, really, is to offer me some kind of _treat_ in return

for my obedience. But mostly I‘m just reveling in the warmth of his smaller body and thinking that this is one of his best ideas by far.

“I‘ll take up more than half the bed, though,” I think aloud, mostly because slowly but surely Nagisa‘s warmth is getting to me and I have to think of something other than what my silly brain seems to want to think of _right this moment_. “and there‘s a high chance that you might wake up and have to carry all seventy-seven kilos of me off of you.”

“I don‘t mind…” I can hear Nagisa sigh breathily, and my heart skips a beat. I always knew Nagisa was a sleeptalker – I once listened to him act out half a story where I was an air nymph who wore a white string bikini and apparently flew into a tree – but I never knew that he could _answer_ me in his sleep. It felt a bit unbecoming of me to carry on with this half-aware conversation, but I couldn‘t help myself.

“You don‘t mind, but _I_ do,” I huff, even though Nagisa‘s arms snake tighter around my waist and I‘ve somehow moved so my chin‘s resting on his fluffy blond waves of hair. “You shouldn‘t have to tire yourself out on my account.”

“…mm…but what if…I _wanna_ tire myself out…on _your_ account…?” he murmurs, tone of voice absolutely dripping with _nuance_ and I know _exactly_ what he‘s trying to imply. “ _Rei-chan_?”

Some parts of me more than others.

This is getting a little bit embarrassing.

“You‘re asleep, and you‘re silly, and you have no idea what you‘re saying,” I say, resisting the childish urge to end that statement with something along the lines of ‗ _so there_ ‘. While also resisting the not-at-all childish urge to do something stupid like take him up on his offer. Being a grown-up is extremely tedious. “I am going to _leave_ if you continue with that train of thought, Nagisa-kun.”

“Hmm-m _m_!” Nagisa grunts, as he pulls me even closer. I‘d no idea that it was possible for us to still be any closer. “No. Nuh-uh. Don‘t leave. Stay here.”

“Such a troublesome child,” I say, settling into the embrace as my heartbeat, and some other parts of me, finally calm down. “You better be thankful I love you so, Nagisa-kun.”

And he‘s asleep, I know he is, he‘s snoring softly and in a few minutes he‘d probably continue the tale of Detective Rei-chan and the missing jammers, but Nagisa murmurs “I am, all the time” under his breath and I‘ve never heard Nagisa be more serious about anything in all the time we‘ve known each other than he had in that moment.

So I fall asleep with my love in my arms and a smile on my face, and it feels unquantifiable and _good_. It‘s a feeling I can get used to feeling for the rest of my life.

And I can‘t help but feel that somewhere along the way, I want to ask him if he feels the same way too. But for now – for now he dreams of me, like I do him, and it‘s more than enough.

**fin _._**

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** Recipes first: The recipes Rei and Makoto are tackling are _bulgogi_ and _mak-kimchi_ (‘easy kimchi‘, kimchi using bite-size pieces of cabbage) from YouTube user Maangchi‘s blog.
> 
> As for the sushi group, I used Nobuko Tsuda‘s _Sushi Made Easy_ – Haru‘s making _saba no bo-zushi_ (mackerel stick sushi), and Rin‘s watching Nagisa make five-color scattered sushi – it‘s cooked, and is more heavy on the veggies than it is on the fish or meat, but a smaller version of what I see in the book would be more visually striking, and, I presume, cheaper.
> 
> Scattered sushi is also something usually made at home, usually by – and I am quoting directly from the preface of this book – the ‗lady of the house‘, hence Rin‘s comment.
> 
> I‘m taking artistic license regarding how far Samezuka is to Rei‘s apartment – and yes it _is_ an apartment (a studio-type one?), the closer look we get in the latest FrFr only serves to support my opinion – since Nagisa falls asleep on the ride from Iwatobi to Samezuka, and he and Rei fall asleep on the ride from Iwatobi to their stop, I‘m guessing that both trips are just as long.
> 
> Granted, the distance from Iwatobi to Samezuka can be xx km long, and Iwatobi to Nagi/Rei‘s stop can also be xx km long, and they can be going in opposite directions, but…for now, let‘s assume that Rei‘s apartment is closer to Samezuka than Iwatobi is.
> 
> Which would beg the question of why Rei chose Iwatobi over the closer, more affluent, with board-and-lodging Samezuka, but….aghhhh.
> 
> The line Rei thinks after Nagisa kisses him is actually _tingin palang busog na ako_ (lit. “looking [at you] alone makes me full already”) because I‘m a sappy person like that, if the fact that I‘ve written this many words about sappy-sweet boyfriends isn‘t obvious enough. But, ugh, the sentiment gets lost in translation…


End file.
